The Steep & Thorny Way To Heaven
by forsakenphoenix1
Summary: Sirius Black is heir to the throne until a sinister plot threatens to take away everything he has ever known. Can a band of marauders and a few loyal advisors save a kingdom before it crumbles in the hands of a wicked ruler?
1. Act I

**Scene ****I**

Cygnus Black was a patient man. He figured he had to be with three young children under his tutelage. But as he sat at his desk, aged by years of teaching the children of the castle, and watched his pupils working diligently on their essays, he wished for the hours of the day to pass by him quickly. He had plans tonight that kept his mind preoccupied.

"Uncle?" A voice broke him out of his reverie.

His eyes snapped to his oldest nephew, Sirius, who had his hand raised and his lower lip caught between his teeth, a look of perplexity on his face.

He sighed. "Yes, Sirius?"

"I was just wondering _why_we don't allow goblins to have wands. If goblins were allowed wands, I think they wouldn't hate wizards as much and we wouldn't have so many uprisings."

Cygnus scoffed and looked upon his nephew with such disdain that Sirius shrunk back in his seat. _This__is__precisely__why__Sirius__will__never__make__a__strong__king_, Cygnus thought.

"Narcissa, my dear, would you like to explain to your cousin why it is we do not allow goblins the right to carry wands?"

Narcissa, or Cissy as she liked to be called, was his youngest daughter. At fifteen, she was only four years older than Sirius, but she already acted like she knew everything there was to know. He smiled proudly as she sat up straight in her seat and folded her hands carefully atop her desk.

"Everyone knows that goblins can do magic without wands anyway. But as wizards and witches, we rule this kingdom so we should not give more power to those creatures that are below us."

"Excellent answer, Cissy," Cygnus praised his daughter. She beamed at him and shot Sirius a self-satisfied smirk, flinging her long blonde hair over her should before turning her attention back to her essay.

Sirius frowned. "That's not fair!" he proclaimed. "Everyone should have the same rights."

"Do not speak of things you do not understand!" Cygnus shouted, slamming his hand down on his desk. The children jumped but said nothing. "Wands are not allowed in the possession of any non-wizard or witch. It has been that way for over three hundred years and will continue to be that way. End of discussion."

"That will change when _I__'__m_king," Sirius muttered indignantly.

"Shut up, Sirius," Regulus hissed, shooting glances between his older brother and his uncle.

"If you allow that, there will be no kingdom for you to rule over, Sirius," his uncle argued. "Get back to work."

Sirius grumbled under his breath but picked up his quill again and continued writing. Cygnus watched him carefully, aware of the discontent brewing in the young child's mind, and knowing in his heart that what he was to do was for the best.

Sirius was too independent, quite unlike his younger brother who was always eager to please, and in Cygnus's mind that was not the trait they wanted to encourage in their future king. That was something he would remedy tonight.

When the children had finished their essays, Cygnus stopped his nephews on their way out of his classroom. "Visit with your father tonight," he urged them. "He's been feeling ill as of late."

The boys nodded, knowing their father, King Orion, had been locked away in his private quarters for the last few days. Regulus's tenth birthday was fast approaching and with the celebration of another year added onto the young prince's age also came mourning for his mother, Walburga, who died in childbirth.

Sirius paused once more before crossing the threshold. "Do you think Father will ever be happy again?" he asked his uncle.

Cygnus leaned back in his chair and leveled his gaze on Sirius before replying, "I think your father will only be happy when he is reunited with your mother again."

Sirius looked down, shuffling his feet anxiously and nodded once, quickly, before shoving his fists into his pocket and rushing out of the room.

Cygnus felt his lips stretching slowly into a smile as he thought of his late sister and her husband; all Cygnus wanted to do was make Orion happy again.

**Scene ****II**

Sirius sat beside his father's bed, an unread textbook open on his lap. He wasn't quite tall enough so his feet scuffed the floor when he swung his legs back and forth as he waited impatiently for his father to stir from his nap. Sirius loved sitting in his father's room, especially at this time of day when the natural sunlight filtered in through his gold curtains, bathing the light in a warm orange glow.

"Princes don't drag their feet," his father slurred sleepily, his eyes blinking against the bright sun.

Sirius's legs halted and he sat silently until he was addressed again. His father slowly sat up and rested himself against the intricate designs etched into the headboard. "What do you want, Sirius?" his father asked wearily.

Sirius paused for a moment, noticing the grey hairs on his father's head, a sharp contrast to the young, handsome man he once was. "Is my mother in heaven?" he wondered, fingers moving idly across the smooth page of text before him.

"You know she is," his father sighed.

Sirius cocked his head and stared thoughtfully at his father. "What do you think it's like?"

His father smiled contentedly, reminding Sirius of the sporadic glimpses of a caring father he had had over the past decade – the one who grinned and laughed with his sons and didn't bury his grief beneath legal parchments and the heavy weight of the crown upon his head.

"I imagine it's beautiful; rolling green hills, skies as blue as your mother's eyes, nothing but golden sunshine and clear night skies as we take our place amongst the stars."

"Why can't we all just live in heaven then?" Sirius demanded.

"You must live your life first, my dear boy. There is no happiness if you have not felt sadness, no triumph if you have never failed. You are still young – you have decades at your fingertips. Don't wish for your life to be over; it has barely even begun."

"What about you?" Sirius quietly asked.

His father frowned and lifted his hand from the mattress, waving Sirius over. He said, "Come here."

Sirius hopped down from the chair, placing the textbook carefully on his seat and made his way over to his father's bedside, making sure to pick his feet up off the ground with each step. He was a prince; he would not drag his feet.

His father placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I have lived for many years, my son." His fingers tightened infinitesimally in a gentle squeeze before trailing down his son's arm and clasping Sirius's own smaller hand in his. "But I still have many years before me. Do not worry."

Sirius smiled down at his father. Giving his hand one last squeeze, his father released him. "Now go on and play with your brother before dinner."

"Will you be down for dinner?" Sirius inquired.

"Not tonight," was the carefully measured reply.

Sirius nodded before turning and carefully watched the way his feet moved as he walked. He was halfway to the door when his father called him back. "Yes, Father?"

His father's head jerked towards the chair and Sirius felt heat burn his cheeks. He grinned sheepishly as he made his way back across the room and scooped the book up.

"Sorry. Goodnight."

"Goodbye, Sirius," his father replied.

Sirius turned to wave and he watched his father's fond smile disappear as the door clicked closed. Tucking the book in his armpit, Sirius ran off to find Regulus, wondering idly if his brother would be up for a game of Exploding Snap before dinner.

**Scene ****III**

Cygnus laughed quietly to himself, wondering where his well-practiced patience was, while he paced anxiously in his study. In his hand he clasped a vial filled with clear liquid, his fingers wrapped around it tightly as if it were his last tethers to this world. The firelight cast dancing shadows along his wall, but aside from the crackling of the flames, Cygnus heard nothing but silence. In the darkness, there was a quiet urgency that whispered wicked words into his ear.

The illusion of silence and safety was shattered when the door to his study opened with a loud, piercing screech followed by a low groan.

"Quietly," Cygnus growled, ushering the two men into his room, their long, black robes billowing behind them. Both men were tall and dark-haired with pale skin and Cygnus had to squint into the shadows to distinguish them. "Dolohov, Carrow," he addressed them. "You know what you must do, then?"

Dolohov grinned, baring his yellow-stained teeth and Cygnus recoiled slightly from the smell emanating from his mouth. "We take the boy out into the woods and kill him." He pulled his wand from the inner pocket of his robes and stroked it lovingly.

"Why can't we just kill 'im in 'is sleep?" Carrow asked impatiently. "Nothin' but a waste of time, that is."

"You must make it look like it was an accident," Cygnus replied, slightly exasperated. "We need the kingdom to believe that Sirius, stricken with grief after receiving news of his father's death, ran away and was then killed by a wild animal."

"Can we gut 'im to make it look bloody?"

Cygnus frowned and looked thoughtful. "Do what you need to. You can't just Avada Kedavra him and have the kingdom believe he was attacked."

"We'll get the job done, Master," Dolohov reassured him. "When do you want us to take the boy?"

"The king's aides will surely rouse his sons once his death has been realized. Sirius must know that his father is dead if we are to get away with anything. You might have to wait until tomorrow night."

Carrow opened his mouth to protest but Dolohov elbowed him sharply in the gut.

"What the fu-" Carrow stopped mid-sentence as Cygnus silenced him with a glare.

"Very well, Master," Dolohov said, bowing his head once more and dragging Carrow behind him.

Cygnus slumped into a chair beside the fireplace, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand. The vial rested enclosed in the fist of his other hand and he unclenched his fingers to look at the transparent liquid inside of it. He watched it slosh slightly against the glass as he observed it by the light of the fire.

_Funny_, Cygnus mused, _how__something__so__deadly__can__look__so__unassuming._

Standing, he made his way towards the window in his study that overlooked the forest. The night was pitch black but looking up, Cygnus could see Orion's constellation burning brightly.

"Soon, my brother, you will join our forefathers," he murmured as he dropped the vial into the pocket of his robes.

He tossed the hood of his robes up over his head and glided quickly and quietly out of his study, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the plush green carpet that lined the hall. At this time of night, the lights had been dimmed so Cygnus crept beside the wall, hidden in the shadows as he maneuvered himself through the maze-like corridors of the castle.

He paused outside the alder wood door and listened for movement inside. When he heard none, he turned the knob and quietly slipped into the room. The curtains that had been pulled back during the day to let in the natural sunlight now lay stiff and motionless, blocking any light from entering the spacious room.

Cygnus was used to darkness; he spent his entire life keeping secrets and malevolent thoughts hidden beneath the cover of night. His eyes adjusted quickly and he carefully made his way across the room to the bed. He looked down at King Orion, his second cousin and brother-in-law, who was curled up on his side, arm thrown out across the mattress as if searching for a warm body to hold. Cygnus admired how even in sleep Orion appeared tormented; he bore the brunt of his grief in the wrinkles that lined his face and the white that speckled his hair. Even his dreams seemed more like nightmares.

Cygnus's fingers closed around the vial in his pocket and he pulled it out, popping the top off with a flick of his thumb. His hand remained steady as he shuffled closer to the bed and held the open vial over his brother-in-law's sleeping head.

He watched in fascination as the clear liquid dribbled over the lip of the glass and the drops slid one by one into Orion's ear. All it took was three drops before Cygnus heard Orion's breath begin to stutter. A few seconds later he heard nothing but silence. He corked the vial and placed it safely in his pocket before pulling the sleeve of his robe out of the way and resting his fingers on Orion's neck. His fingertips searched for a pulse, for a sign that life still ran through flowing blood beneath pallid skin; he felt nothing.

"Sleep in peace, King Orion," Cygnus said in a slightly mocking manner.

Fully satisfied the poison had done its job, he left the room just as quietly as he had entered and made his way back to his study. In only a few short hours, King Orion's aides would find him pale and unresponsive and call for a physician. As he finally settled into bed for the night, Cygnus smirked because he knew they would find nothing to implicate him in the death of the king; there was no evidence that would suggest King Orion died by any other means than his own broken, grief-stricken body failing him. Cygnus fell asleep easily that night, dreaming of a crown upon his head and his brother's kingdom in the palm of his hand.


	2. Act II

_**Scene I**_

It was still dark when Sirius was roused from his slumber by small hands shaking him roughly.

"Reg?" he mumbled, blinking rapidly to adjust to the lack of light. "It's still too early. G'back to bed."

He smacked his lips sleepily and rolled over, quite content to drift off again. But Regulus would have none of that and climbed into bed with him, shaking him again.

"Sirius, wake up," he hissed and Sirius awoke with a start when he heard the roughness in Regulus's voice, as if he'd been crying.

"What happened?" he asked frantically, grabbing Regulus's shoulders and looking him over briefly. He didn't notice any obvious wounds but by the light of the moon, he could see the tear tracks that trailed down Regulus's round, childish cheeks. Regulus blinked and tears pooled in his eyes once more before he let loose a loud wail of despair.

"I heard them talking," he explained through hiccupping sobs. His face flushed and his breath stuttered as he gasped for oxygen.

"Talking about what?" Sirius prompted him, concerned at the level of hysterics his younger brother was reaching.

"They said Father was _dead_!" Regulus shrieked. Sirius had to cover Regulus's mouth with his hand and shushed him, lest they wake their personal aides.

"What are you talking about?" Sirius demanded angrily once Regulus had quieted somewhat. "If this is your idea of a joke, it isn't funny, Reg."

Regulus smacked Sirius's hands away and huffed. "I wouldn't joke about this!" he sniffled, swiping the sleeve of his nightshirt across his face to dry his tears. "I heard Kreacher and Dumbledore talking outside my door. They said that Father wouldn't wake up and they were calling for Madam Pomfrey."

Sirius tried to swallow the lump in his throat but still felt the unfamiliar sting of tears. Regulus's bottom lip began to tremble and Sirius let loose a shaky sigh, pulling Regulus down to rest beside him.

"We don't know anything," he said, trying to reassure Regulus. He was the oldest, the one who would be king; he could handle this, he told himself. "Maybe you didn't hear them right. Father's fine."

The two brothers laid side-by-side for a few moments in silence. Sirius could feel his nightshirt dampening with Regulus's tears but just patted his brother's back awkwardly.

"Can we go check?" Regulus pleaded.

Sirius frowned, turning his head slightly to look out the window; the dark sky was beginning to lighten slightly but it was still considered too early for them to leave their rooms. "You know we're not supposed to leave our rooms until daylight."

"Sirius, _please_, I won't be able to go back to sleep until we know that father is okay."

He sighed but sat up and pushed his duvet away. He climbed out of his bed and slid his feet into his slippers as Regulus clambered out of bed.

"Be quiet," Sirius said as he pulled his door open, peering out into the dimly lit hallway; he saw no one and ushered Regulus out.

They crept along the corridor until they reached a set of wooden double doors. Turning the knob, Sirius yanked on the door hard, knowing the faster the door opened, the quieter it was. There was no one in sight when the boys snuck out of the castle wing where their bedrooms were located. It was unusual for the main corridor to be as empty as it was at this time of morning; Sirius knew that there was a constant bustle of staff running off to do errands or clean the castle. His stomach twisted uncomfortably at the stillness and he grabbed Regulus's arm roughly, dragging him past the large winding staircase to the other side of the hall, opening another set of double doors. _This_ was where the entire staff seemed to be gathered.

Sirius noticed Mrs Weasley, the nanny who raised both him and his brother after their mother's death, pacing anxiously. Her eyes met his and they widened in surprised. She tossed a glance towards their father's door and then hurried over to greet them.

"You boys should be in bed," she scolded, trying to steer them away from the gathering crowd outside their father's bedroom.

"What's wrong with Father?" Sirius demanded, trying to wiggle out of her grasp.

"Sirius, please," Mrs. Weasley said, tightening her grip on his arm. "Madam Pomfrey is with your father right now. It's best if you just wait in your rooms until someone comes to fetch you."

"I want to see Father now!" Regulus cried, as he tugged hard and escaped from their nanny and rushed through the throng of staff.

"Regulus!" Sirius called after his brother.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and let him go. "Best go after him," she said, brushing Sirius's dark hair out of his eyes as she looked at him with motherly affection.

Sirius's heart had begun to pound furiously in his chest as he walked through the parted crowd, avoiding their pitying stares and whispers. He heard Regulus cry out before he reached the door and ignoring all the rules that had been instilled in him since birth, he broke out into a run to reach his father's bedroom in record time. He almost knocked into Regulus who had come to a stop just inside the door and he reached out to grab Regulus's shoulders, steadying himself. The grip he had on his brother almost failed him when he turned his attention to his father's bed and saw their Healer, Madam Pomfrey working furiously with potions and spell work over the ashen figure that once was his father.

Their father's two aides, Albus Dumbledore and Matthias Kreacher (though both boys tended to call their father's staff by their surnames), were by the king's bedside. Dumbledore remained impassive, though Sirius could tell he was worried, while Kreacher was muttering under his breath and wringing his handkerchief fretfully.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Sirius asked quietly. He was afraid to disturb her concentration but his concern and curiosity outweighed any tongue-lashing she might release on him.

"Not now, boy," she muttered angrily as she stirred the concoction boiling in her pot. There was a tiny puff and she looked at the light blue liquid with satisfaction when she ladled it into a shallow bowl. "Prop him up," she ordered Kreacher, who immediately jumped to action.

The king was lifted into a sitting position and had to be supported by Kreacher or else he would flop back down onto the bed like a dead fish. Sirius cringed at the pallor of his father's cheeks and deep down, he knew that whatever potion Madam Pomfrey had created would do nothing to save his father.

Dumbledore motioned the boys over and they dutifully crossed the room to stand beside their father's most trusted aide.

"Is he dead?" Regulus asked tearfully, watching Madam Pomfrey pry the king's mouth open wide enough to slip some liquid in.

Dumbledore put one hand on each boy's shoulder but didn't say a word. They watched with bated breath as they waited for the potion to work its magic. Seconds seemed to pass like hours to Sirius in the stifling silence of his father's bedroom. There was no movement; no sound of gasping breath or twitching fingers from the unresponsive king and Madam Pomfrey shook her head sadly.

"I'm afraid he's gone," she said, turning to face the audience in the room. Sirius heard word spreading quickly through the crowd outside and women began to wail as the men's voices began to rise above one another.

Sirius felt tears gathering in his eyes and when he squeezed his eyelids shut to block out the sight of his father's dead body, they spilled over and raced down his cheeks to gather at his chin.

Regulus started screaming and Sirius cried harder, knowing how difficult it was for Regulus to grow up knowing his mother had died bringing him into the world. Now his father was dead as well. Sirius saw Madam Pomfrey wave her wand while muttering a spell and then Regulus quieted and began to sway. He caught his brother before he fell but he stumbled under Regulus's weight.

Dumbledore picked Regulus up with ease, one arm under his knees and the other supporting his neck while his head lolled uncomfortably. "I've got him," Dumbledore reassured Sirius. "You should say goodbye to your father while you have the chance."

Sirius nodded and with shaky legs, he walked closer to the bed.

Dumbledore addressed the crowd that had begun to filter into the room and said, "Let the boy say goodbye in peace."

Madam Pomfrey was the last to leave after the rest had trickled out slowly. She rubbed Sirius's back and offered him a sincere smile. "Fetch me if you need something to get you to sleep tonight," she offered. While Sirius was touched that the usually abrupt woman was being kind to him, he knew there would be no sleeping tonight.

When the door to his father's bedroom finally closed with an ominous click, Sirius made the last few steps toward the bed. He touched the hand that rested closest to him but recoiled at the cool temperature of the skin.

"Father?" he whispered and then instantly felt foolish for he knew there would be no response.

He took a deep breath and reached out again, this time keeping his hand atop his father's. He tried desperately to keep his composure, knowing that now his father had passed, he was next in line for the throne. But he was too young, too inexperienced; he was not expected to take the crown and throne until his eighteenth birthday.

He knew there were laws in place that dictated what should happen if the king died before then, but he didn't know what they entailed. Sirius was at a loss and then he felt a surge of irrational anger towards his father for leaving him to take care of a kingdom and his brother; he was only eleven, after all. Feeling defeated, he nearly collapsed beside the bed, but instead he sat down on the edge of the mattress and sighed.

"I'm not ready yet," he said fearfully. "Why did you have to die?"

There was a knock on the door and Sirius's head snapped up in time to see Kreacher stick his head in.

"Master Sirius," Kreacher addressed him, bowing his head slightly as he entered the room. He coughed uncomfortably. "I'm afraid that your time is nearly up. There uh…needs to be an investigation to determine the…the cause of your father's de-" The handkerchief in his hand was twisted beyond recognition and he looked flushed. "I'm sorry. I can't…" he squeaked.

"I understand."

Sirius turned back towards the body and pressed his lips quickly to his father's forehead. "I hope you see green hills and blue skies. Say hello to mother," he said sadly before rising and walking steadily, regally, across the bedroom floor.

He passed Alastor Moody, his father's head of security, as he barged into the bedroom. "Don't you worry, Master Sirius, I'll find out what happened," Moody said gruffly as he limped over to the king's bed. He whipped out his wand and began uttering spells while Sirius watched, but Kreacher soon pulled him away and into the hall, closing the door behind them.

"You should head down to the kitchen. I think Ms Winky will have some breakfast for you."

Sirius agreed but he didn't feel hungry, not after sitting with his father's dead body. Still, he made his way down the main stairway and took a left, his feet automatically taking him towards the kitchen. Pushing through the swinging door, he inhaled the scent of sweet bread baking and he took comfort in the sounds of Ms. Winky, their cook, bustling around the kitchen preparing meals for the entire castle.

"Oh, Master!" she cried as she spotted him. "I just heard the awful news! How terrible! Here, drink this," she exclaimed, putting a cup of something warm into his hands.

Sirius sniffed it and then took a big gulp, feeling the liquid warm his insides. Ms. Winky smiled tenderly and ushered him over to a small, round table. "Sit, I'll get you some fresh bread and jam."

"Thank you," he murmured, for though he didn't feel hungry, his stomach growled angrily at him, demanding to be fed.

"Where is your brother?" she asked as she slid a plate in front of him.

Sirius took a big bite out of his toast and swallowed before speaking. "Madam Pomfrey had to sedate him."

"I'll have some food sent up to him. Eat up!" she encouraged before flittering away, moving from pot to pot, adding spices and herbs, like a bee moves flower to flower, pollinating as it goes. Now that she was aware of the king's death, Sirius knew she was busy working on the dinner feast. Whenever someone in the castle died, they celebrated their life with a fantastic feast. Sirius knew this feast would outshine the rest of the celebrations he had attended in his short life and while he was saddened by his father's passing, he took a quiet comfort in the fact that his father was so well loved.

Sirius finished the rest of his bread quietly and snuck out of the kitchen through the backdoor, leaving Ms. Winky to do her job in peace. The backdoor out of the kitchen led into a small courtyard and Sirius curled up beneath the apple tree, embracing the quiet of the outdoors. Here, with only his despairing thoughts for company, Sirius fell asleep.

_**Scene II**_

Cygnus was busy with his lesson planning when he was interrupted. He plastered on a look of surprise when he saw his intruder.

"Matthias, what can I do for you on this beautiful morning?" he asked cheerfully, slipping a thin piece of parchment to mark his place in the tome he was reading.

"This morning is not so beautiful," Kreacher admitted sadly. "I am so-sorry to have to inform you of the king's untimely…" He paused and swallowed hard before continuing, "…the king's untimely passing."

Cygnus gasped and shot up from his chair. "Tell me it isn't true!" he demanded, stalking over to the quivering aide. "What happened?"

Kreacher cowered under Cygnus's piercing stare. "We…we don't know! Alastor is investigating at the moment."

"Find out what happened and inform me immediately. The princes, where are they? Have they been told?"

"Yes, sir. They were both present this morning."

"Good. Very good," Cygnus murmured. "Who is planning the funeral ceremony?"

"I…I'm not sure."

"Do you know anything?" Cygnus snarled.

"I'm sorry, sir. I think – I think Albus might be in charge."

Kreacher avoided looking into Cygnus's eyes, content to stare at the bookshelves that lined the study.

Cygnus smirked at his submission. "Very well. You are dismissed. Send someone when they've finished with their investigation. We _must_ know what happened to the king."

"Of course, sir," Kreacher said quickly, turning on his heel and hurrying out of the door.

"What an odd man," Cygnus observed quietly. He sat back down in his chair and swung his legs to rest on the edge of his desk, planning the king's elaborate funeral in his mind.

_**Scene III**_

Alastor Moody ruled the king had died of natural causes. He could find no evidence of a Killing curse, no obvious wounds and he was convinced if the king had been poisoned, his spell work would have detected it.

"There is nothing suspicious about the king's death," he declared confidently.

Dumbledore stood beside him while he made the announcement, but the wise aide had trouble believing what Moody had determined as the king's cause of death. But he had no proof to contradict the security expert's decision. His gaze fell upon the princes who sat side by side, hands tightly grasped as Moody talked about the king's death with sadness, though his tone revealed a certain fondness for their beloved king. Moody finished speaking and then turned the platform over to Dumbledore.

"Tonight," Dumbledore began, "we mourn the loss of our great king. We feel much sadness but tonight we should also celebrate the life of the man who helped us become as prosperous as we have, who ruled us with a gentle but firm hand and was never unkind or unfair. He was our king, but he was also a father, and we should celebrate the lives of our two princes, who are the very best of us all."

"Hear, hear!" the crowd cried, and Dumbledore offered the two young princes a brief smile, before he turned and headed towards his room, preparing himself for a long night.

_**Scene IV**_

Sirius collapsed in his bed later that night, his stomach full of Ms Winky's excellent food and his heart even fuller. He never knew the impact his father had on the lives of his staff, but he was proud to follow in his footsteps. He listened contentedly to the stories and kind words that did nothing but praise a king, who did his best to rule a kingdom and raise a family despite his broken heart.

All the food he ate made him feel drowsy and he fell asleep quickly, despite his thoughts earlier this morning that sleep would not come easily.

Sirius wasn't sure how much time had passed when he bolted awake, breathing heavily. He looked around his room but couldn't see anything that would have awoken him. The air in his room felt stale and Sirius clambered out of his bed to throw open a window. He gulped the fresh air greedily, resting his overheated skin against the cool stones that lined his window. The forest outside seemed unusually quiet and Sirius felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. Before he could turn around, suddenly aware of a presence behind him, he heard someone mutter, "_Petrificus totalus_!"

Sirius felt his muscles lock and he wished he could have winced as his body toppled to the floor. He began to panic, willing the muscles in his lips to move so he could scream out for help but his body wouldn't respond to the commands of his racing mind. He felt hands grab him roughly and pull him to his feet.

"We need to make it look like he ran away," he heard a voice say.

"What would 'e bring if 'e was runnin' away?" another voice replied.

The first man sighed in exasperation. "Just grab a bag and throw some clothes in it or something. _Let's go_!"

Sirius was momentarily blinded when his room was suddenly illuminated with light.

"What are you doing?" the first voice hissed. "Put it out!"

"I can't see anythin'!" the second voice complained.

"Just grab some damn clothes and be done with it. We're already running behind."

Sirius heard some rustling and one of the men cursed as he stubbed his toe on a side table.

"I'm ready," Sirius heard, and then he was lifted in someone's arms. He heard the swish of silky fabric and felt something smooth and heavy settle over him like a blanket as he was carried from his room. The hall outside his room was darkened and Sirius panicked even more, convinced that no one would notice these men stealing him away in the middle of the night.

"This way!" the man holding him said quietly, moving them down a hallway that was rarely used. They followed the hall until they stopped in front of a rickety, wooden staircase. "Follow behind me," he said to the other man.

Sirius felt his heart pounding uncomfortably in his throat, afraid the man would drop him and he would fall to his death. His concern continued to grow, even when they had safely made it to the bottom and outside the castle, when he realized they were heading for the forest.

He heard the crunch of leaves beneath the men's heavy footsteps and listened to each step as a way to measure time. After six hundred feet, he lost count. The men eventually stopped in a clearing and whatever had been covering him was pulled off and he was dropped to the ground. By the moonlight filtering in through the breaks in the treetops, Sirius could see the two men who had kidnapped him. Both men were tall and dark haired. The one who had carried him grinned menacingly at him and Sirius could see his yellow, crooked teeth. The other man had a long scar running down his face.

"Can we kill 'im yet?" Scarface asked, pulling his wand from his back pocket, pointing it at Sirius's chest. Sirius felt fear creep up his spine; if he wasn't paralyzed, he would probably be quivering.

Crooked-Teeth smacked his companion on the back of the head. "Not yet." He turned to face Sirius again. "The kingdom will think you ran away, so grief-stricken after your father's death. You ran into the woods, only to meet a wild animal who attacked you so savagely your body will be barely recognizable. That will be fun," he said, baring his teeth at Sirius.

"Can we _Crucio_ 'im instead?" Scarface asked Crooked-teeth. "Can we release 'im from the Bind and 'ear 'im squeal like a li'l pig?"

Crooked-teeth laughed. "I do love that sound," he admitted. "_Finite incantatem_!"

Sirius felt his limbs go flaccid and he moved his fingers experimentally, only to clench them tightly into fists when he felt the effects of the first _Crucio_. He let loose a shrill shriek and writhed uncomfortably on the ground, feeling like a thousand hot knives were piercing his skin.

"How did you enjoy that, little prince?" Crook-Teeth taunted. "Oh, look, he's crying! Can you imagine our future king being such a baby?"

"Me next!" Scarface exclaimed gleefully.

Sirius squeezed his eyes tightly closed and braced himself for the pain. Only it didn't come. Instead he heard the cry of, "_Expelliarmus!_" His eyes flung open and he saw Crooked-teeth shooting a green spell into the woods. There was a cackle of laughter and another flash of red came streaking towards them. Crooked-teeth cursed.

"Find them!" he yelled to Scarface, and then he turned towards Sirius. "I'll finish him off."

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Crooked-Teeth spat out, his wand pointed at Sirius. Sirius quickly rolled to his side, avoiding the spell as it kicked up dirt and rock when it hit the ground instead, and attempted to scramble to his feet.

He heard Crooked-teeth say, "_Incarcerous_," and suddenly he was falling again. This time he was able to catch himself with his hands and he rolled again to avoid another spell. Another flash of red came streaking out from the trees surrounding them and this time it didn't miss. Crooked-Teeth's wand went flying from his hand and he cried out in anger.

"Let's just go," Scarface said, his eyes darting every which way, attempting to find out where they were being attacked from.

"They have my wand!" Crooked-Teeth growled. He glared at Sirius. "You best watch your back, boy. I may not be able to kill you now but mark my word, if you _ever_ set foot in that castle again, I will make you wish you had died tonight just like your father."

Sirius gulped and then flinched when Scarface made to move towards him. Scarface laughed and kicked dirt in his face.

"Long live the king!" Crooked-Teeth sneered, turning on his heel and walking briskly out of the clearing, Scarface trailing behind him, arguing back and forth the entire time.

Sirius's hands shook. While the men who had kidnapped him were now disarmed and on their way back to the castle, Sirius still had no idea who stole their wands or what they were after. For all he knew, they could be deranged murderers. He had heard tales from Mrs. Weasley when he was younger about the riff-raff that called these woods their home. He shivered, suddenly aware of the chill in the air. Every noise made him jump until he heard a branch snap directly behind him and he almost pissed himself. Realizing his feet were still tied, he tumbled to the ground when he tried to get up, scraping his face up against some rocks.

"Who's there? Show yourself," he demanded in a shaky voice.

He heard more branches crack and then suddenly three figures emerged from the shadow of the trees. Sirius curled himself into a ball as best as he could and looked at the figures warily until they were standing directly in a beam of moonlight. To his surprise, he noticed they were boys, not much older than himself.

The middle figure grinned at him, all wide-eyed and dimple-cheeked, and said, "Hey there, I'm James!"


	3. Act III

**Scene I**

Cygnus took a sip of pumpkin juice as his eyes roamed the packed ballroom. Though he decided to remain sober to ensure his plans were carried out that night, he briefly wished he could drink something a little stronger. Many people were laughing and joking, sharing fond memories of the king and Cygnus was disgusted by their blatant disrespect for his brother. When he died, he would ensure it was a somber affair. With death came pain and grieving, not this frivolous party where people ate too much and drank even more.

The lip of the goblet rested on his lips, hiding his smirk, when his eyes finally landed upon his oldest nephew. Sirius was surrounded by some of the men in Moody's security team and they all appeared to be intoxicated, laughing raucously.

"Foolish boy," he muttered as he watched Sirius's pale cheeks flush and a delighted laugh escape his mouth.

He found Regulus next, sitting next to Kreacher with an agonized look on his face. Placing the goblet on the tray of a passing servant, Cygnus stalked through the ballroom, slithering easily through the throng.

"Regulus!" He stood before the young boy and placed his hands gently on his nephew's shoulders. "Is this celebration not to your liking?"

Regulus frowned and glanced quickly at Kreacher, who appeared uninterested in their conversation, before turning back to his uncle. "It feels wrong," he whispered. "Why should we celebrate Father's death with laughter? We haven't even buried his body yet."

"I completely agree," Cygnus responded. He glanced around the ballroom once more, unable to keep the sneer off his face. "This is one tradition I will abolish when I become interim king."

He raised his eyebrow when he turned back to his nephew and was faced with Kreacher's horrified face. "Is there a problem, Matthias?"

"Of course not, sir," Kreacher replied quickly, casting his eyes downward.

"Of course not," Cygnus muttered darkly, his eyes searching Kreacher's face for any signs of dissatisfaction.

"So you will be king then?" Regulus asked.

"Until you come of age, my dear nephew, I shall act as king in your father's stead."

"You mean until Sirius comes of age," Regulus stated, staring at his uncle in confusion.

Internally, Cygnus winced at his slip-up and berated himself for being so foolish. "Yes, of course," he replied easily. "I was speaking with you, so my mind merely jumped to the wrong conclusion."

Regulus accepted the lie easily, nodding absently as he gazed around the full ballroom. Turning to look at Kreacher, he said, "I think I want to sit with my brother awhile."

"Very well, Master Regulus," Kreacher said, rising to his feet.

Cygnus grabbed Kreacher's arm before he could follow Regulus, his fingers tightening around the man's frail arm. "A moment, Matthias."

Kreacher visibly paled under Cygnus's scrutiny but his face remained impassive. "Sir?"

"It has been a long day for my young nephew. Ensure he gets a good night's sleep," Cygnus said after a lengthy pause. "Madam Pomfrey will have something for him."

Kreacher inclined his head slightly. "Of course, sir," he replied. "Master Sirius as well?"

Cygnus's grip tightened infinitesimally and his gaze turned from Kreacher towards Sirius, who had his arm thrown around his brother's shoulders while he laughed with those around him. "No," he replied softly, slowly releasing his hold on Kreacher's arm. "I'll see to it that Sirius is resting peacefully."

"Very well, sir," Kreacher said, stepping away from Cyngus and quickly getting lost in the crowd.

Reaching out without a second look, Cygnus snagged a small tumbler from the tray of a passing servant and downed the amber liquid in one gulp.

"And so it begins."

**Scene II**

Kreacher's strides were quick and even as he followed the multitude of twists and turns of the castle, leading away from the ballroom and towards the lower level infirmary. He had sent Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the king's many guards, to accompany the young prince to his room. Now that the king was dead, Kreacher felt an obligation to the princes and he knew his loyalty would remain with them rather than Cygnus Black, despite his contract as an aide to the king. Kreacher grimaced slightly when he thought of the name, feeling the deep ache in his upper arm where Cygnus's fingers dug into his tender flesh. The king would have never touched anyone in this castle that way, and the thought of this man on the throne in the king's place left a bitter taste in Kreacher's mouth.

He almost walked past the infirmary door, too caught up in his thoughts of the king's brother, but he caught himself last minute and found himself by the black painted door. With his knuckle, he rapped on the door three times and waited for Madam Pomfrey to allow his entrance into her infirmary.

Upon opening the door, Kreacher was taken aback by how tired the healer looked. "Madam Pomfrey," he greeted her genially.

"I sincerely hope you are not here to tell me someone else is dead, Matthias," the Healer snapped.

"No, madam. I was instructed to retrieve something for Prince Regulus to help him sleep tonight."

Madam Pomfrey nodded and opened the door wider, motioning for Kreacher to follow her inside. "I was expecting that," she replied, showing Kreacher into the large circular room off to the side of the main hospital wing. There was a table of bubbling cauldrons, each with a set of vials beside it waiting to be filled with whatever concoction the woman was brewing.

She walked to the far side of the room and stood over the cauldron, wafting some of the billowing smoke towards her face. "Perfect," she muttered. "You're just in time." She ladled some blue liquid into a vial. She corked one more vial and handed them off to Kreacher before backing him out of the room.

Kreacher looked at her in confusion. "The second vial, Madam Pomfrey?"

She paused in her efforts to shoo him out. "For Master Sirius. I presume you require one for him as well."

"Master Cygnus," Kreacher started, stopping to swallow the bile that rose in his throat, "said he would take care of Master Sirius tonight. Has he not been down to collect some sleeping draught?"

"If he had, why would I have handed you two vials?" she snapped in response. "What Master Cygnus does on his time is of no concern to me."

"It will be when he becomes king," Kreacher said.

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips but refused to speak on the matter. "It is late," she said instead. "Get those potions to the princes and make sure they rest well tonight. There is much to do tomorrow in preparation of the king's funeral."

"Of course, madam. Thank you."

The infirmary door closed behind him with a loud bang and Kreacher knew he must get back to Prince Regulus as soon as possible. When he finally opened the door to the young prince's quarters, he found the boy sitting up by his pillows, legs tucked under his chin.

"Master Regulus," Kreacher said, pulling one of the vials from an inner pocket of his robes as he slowly made his way across the room. "I have something that will help you sleep."

"I don't want it," Regulus replied petulantly. His bottom lip trembled and he sniffled slightly. "I want Sirius."

"Your brother is going to take some potion and sleep peacefully in his own room tonight," Kreacher said, pinching the inside of his wrist as penance for lying to the young prince. "Please drink it, Master Regulus."

"I'll have nightmares of Father's dead face."

"No, no," Kreacher said, quick to placate him. "This will put you into a dreamless sleep."

Regulus looked at Kreacher with wide eyes, the grey of his irises looking more like dull metal in the candlelight that lit his room, and Kreacher closed his own eyes briefly, trying to fight the onslaught of memories of an older man who had oftentimes looked at him that way.

"Do you promise?"

Brown eyes met grey, and for a split moment, Kreacher was back in the king's bedroom, making different promises. There was no hesitation in his declaration, not then and not now. "I promise."

He held the vial over Regulus's bed and waited for him to take it on his own. Regulus stared at it for a few moments, and the only sound in the room was the uneven tempo of their breathing. With a shaking hand, Regulus grasped the vial and uncorked it with his thumb. He drank the liquid contents in one gulp and wiped the back of his arm across his mouth before handing the vial back to Kreacher.

The aide helped Regulus settle down into his bed and he drew the duvet up to the boy's neck. "Sleep well, Master Regulus," Kreacher said, with a hint of fondness in the tone of his voice.

Regulus yawned widely but he was too tired to care about formalities. "I thought that's what the potion was for," he murmured quietly, before his eyes slid shut and he drifted off to sleep.

Kreacher waited a few moments, listening to Regulus's deep and steady breathing ; a sign of life that Kreacher desperately tried to hold onto. He sighed heavily – there was no mourning right now, not while he was still on the job. Hidden in the dark shadows of night, there would come a time for tears and regrets but it was not now. He rolled the second vial around in his hand, contemplating bringing it to Master Sirius. He knew that Cygnus told him to leave the oldest prince to him, but deep down, Kreacher wanted to make sure that Sirius was okay, that he was handling the king's death better than his brother. Making up his mind, Kreacher slipped out of Regulus's room and hurried down the hall to Sirius's room, keeping an eye out for Cygnus along the way. He opened the door and peered inside, only to step back in surprise when he was met with nothing but darkness.

"He must already be asleep then," Kreacher mumbled to himself, and he slipped the vial back into his robes, wondering briefly how much trouble he would be in if he took the potion for himself.

**Scene III**

For the second night in a row, Cygnus found himself pacing his study. Soon, he feared, the rug would wear thin and his impatience would be revealed to anyone who happened to notice the circle he walked constantly around the room.

He was not a nervous man by nature; he exuded confidence and arrogance like a Black should, and he knew that no one would dare question him once he was made king. But now, it was all he could do not to collapse into his chair by the fire and anxiously pick at his robes. His entire plan relied on this night to go well, and Cygnus hated leaving important jobs to others.

He paused in his pacing in front of the window that overlooked the forest and watched the tree line for any sign of movement. It seemed like a lifetime until, by the light of the moon, Cygnus saw two figures emerge from the forest. He heaved a sigh of relief and sat down in his chair, allowing himself another drink of whiskey while he waited for the men to meet him in his study.

Time was nothing more than a thief of life and Cygnus bemoaned how slowly it seemed to pass in moments of great urgency.

"Finally," he sighed, standing quickly when he heard the sharp knock at his door. He yanked the door open and ushered the two men inside. "So?"

Dolohov and Carrow shared a look that made the blood in Cygnus's veins run cold. "What happened?" he hissed, grabbing Dolohov's robe collar and pulling the man closer to him. "Did you kill the boy or not?"

Dolohov looked terrified but still, he knew better than to lie to Cygnus so he shook his head.

Cygnus exploded and pushed Dolohov away roughly, whipping out his wand. "Why the hell not?"

"You don't understand, Master," Carrow said, his hands lifted in the universally accepted sign of peace. "There were others in the woods. They disarmed us, we couldn't…there was nothin' we could do."

"You have hands, don't you? Why didn't you bring a knife or something else to get the job done? Don't you two share an ounce of brain between you? You have ruined everything!" Cygnus was yelling by the time he finished talking.

"We're sorry, Master," Dolohov was sputtering. "We didn't think…"

"Of course you didn't think," Cygnus spat. "When do you _ever_think, you imbeciles?"

"I threatened him, at least," Dolohov explained, trying to pacify their irate master. "He won't be coming back to the castle unless he wants to die."

"Oh really?" Cygnus lowered his wand and looked at his two servants, the first men that joined the army he had been assembling in secret. "There may be hope for you yet, then," he said, his voice steady but deadly. "But you will not fail me again."

**Scene IV**

Regulus cried out in surprise when he was jolted from sleep by his door slamming open.

"Oh, Master Regulus, thank God you are here," Moody exclaimed. He stopped briefly to examine the slight damage to the door he caused but shrugged it off and rushed to Regulus's bedside.

"Have you seen your brother?"

Regulus blinked at the intimidating man in confusion, hesitantly raising his hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes. "Sirius? Is he not asleep?"

Moody opened his mouth to respond but then closed it quickly, glancing back towards the door. Regulus had not noticed earlier but now he saw Kreacher hovering in the doorway. He looked back and forth between the two men. "Where is my brother?" he demanded, shoving his duvet away from him and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Master Regulus," Kreacher started, wringing his hands nervously, and Regulus felt his heart stop momentarily as he remembered the twisted handkerchief in Kreacher's hands yesterday after his father's death. "Did your brother…did he say anything to you last night about running away?"

Regulus's heart sputtered back to its normal rhythm, but he still felt uncomfortable, like his stomach was trying to claw its way out of his mouth, and he wasn't sure if he would ever feel normal again. "Run away? Why would Sirius run away? Why would he leave me alone to deal with this?" Regulus screeched and Kreacher was quick to kneel down before the boy and try to quiet him while Moody looked on helplessly.

"We don't know what has happened," Kreacher said. "There was a note, left on his bedside, and some of his clothing is gone."

"Let me see the note," Regulus said, holding out his hand, palm up.

"Regulus." Moody's tone was low and full of caution.

"I'm the prince and you must do as I say," Regulus declared. "Give me the note."

Moody took a piece of folded parchment from his robe pocket and handed it over to Regulus. He watched as Regulus carefully unfolded the note and read the words. Moody had the note memorized, could recite every word Sirius had written that begged for forgiveness and spoke of a firm conviction that he was no more than a broken boy incapable of becoming a king.

Regulus's face crumpled just like the parchment that was now balled up in his tiny fist. "It's not true," he said. He was so convinced of this that the two men that stood there with him almost believed him too.

Regulus felt betrayed and angry that his brother would leave him to deal with their father's death alone. Not only that, but now the future of their kingdom rested in his hands. He could not rule a kingdom. Being the first born, Sirius had been groomed since birth to take the throne once he was of age. Regulus was only raised knowing that he would always be second in line. He knew little about diplomacy and laws, only what his uncle had told him offhandedly during their lessons. Regulus felt like he was going to vomit.

"I can't do this," he muttered, blinking back tears.

How many times would he have to cry until the tears stopped coming? Suddenly angry at his own weakness and his brother's betrayal, Regulus tore a painting from his wall and threw it at the ground, releasing a loud yell as he did so. The subjects of the paintings rushed from the portrait into the adjacent frame and were now chastising him for his behavior but Regulus didn't care. He felt torn between feeling relieved and even angrier, itching to destroy something else.

"Master Regulus, please," Kreacher pleaded with him. "We need your help in finding your brother. We need you to be rational."

Kreacher sighed heavily, not wanting to see his young charge this upset. They needed a prince now, though, not a young boy with a head full of anger.

"Where would your brother go if he was upset?" Moody asked.

Regulus felt drained now that the anger had slowly ebbed away, leaving him feeling nothing but helpless. He shrugged. "I don't know. He usually hides in the gardens when he wants time to think."

Moody's team had checked the gardens once they found Sirius missing and the note on his bedside. "If your brother was serious about running away he wouldn't hide in the garden. I need you to think, Master Regulus. Did he mention any friends in the kingdom or any places he wanted to visit outside of the castle?"

"I've told you all I know!" Regulus shouted, irritated with their questioning. "I want my brother back as much as you do. I _need_ him. If I knew _anything_..."

"Right, of course. My apologies, Master Regulus."

Regulus waved his apologies off. "I understand you're frustrated. I'm sorry, I wish I knew more."

Moody nodded and with a tilt of his head, motioned for Kreacher to exit the room.

"Wait," Regulus said, gripping the cuff of Moody's robes as he walked by. "Please. Find my brother and bring him back."

"I will do my very best," Moody vowed and the two men left quickly, shutting the door quietly behind them.

The silence and stillness of his room left Regulus feeling claustrophobic and he rose swiftly, seeking some fresh air from his window. As he stepped towards the other side of his room, he found the crumpled piece of parchment at his feet and realized he must have dropped it during his fit of rage.

"Sirius," he whimpered, and he unfolded the note once more, finding some solace in the familiar lines and loops of his brother's handwriting.

**Scene V**

"They have already asked Regulus if he knows anything about his brother's disappearance," the man informed Cygnus. "They are on their way to question you."

Cygnus narrowed his eyes at the sickly-looking, elderly man. "You're certain they did not see you?"

The man scoffed. "Do not doubt me. The young prince threw a fit and destroyed a portrait. Cassiopeia and Lucretia rushed into Phineas's frame. No one even took notice of me in the background in the confusion."

"And what about Arcturus and Lycoris in Sirius's room?"

"They were questioned but refused to say anything useful about the prince, except that he likes to sleep with his socks on."

Cygnus smirked. "Excellent."

The knock came just as he expected and Cygnus sent a pointed look towards the man, who quickly moved through the portraits and out of his study.

Cygnus opened the door to find Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt looking at him with nothing but worry on their faces.

"Oh no," he moaned, his eyes darting back and forth between the men, reading nothing but fear and panic in the creases around their eyes. "Something else has happened. Tell me, quickly."

"I'm sorry, sir, but it appears as though Master Sirius has run away."

"What do you mean?" Cygnus demanded, his voice tinged with concern. "Where could he have gone? He's only eleven!"

"We don't know, sir. We're trying to figure that out and bring him back safely. Has he said anything to you, anything at all, about acquaintances or places he might go during troubled times such as these?"

Cygnus shook his head in disbelief. "No, nothing. Sirius and I were never particularly close. I just can't believe he would do this. Have you spoken to Regulus?"

"First thing this morning," Moody assured him. "He is upset, obviously, but he doesn't know where his brother could be either."

"Why are you wasting time talking to those who know nothing? All of your men should be scouring the kingdom searching for him!"

"I have men out right now, but we have nothing to go on, sir. He could be anywhere."

"That's not good enough!" Cygnus slammed his fist against the wooden frame of his door.

"We're trying, sir," Moody said exasperatedly. "We are doing our very best to bring the prince home safe and sound."

"See to it that you do," Cygnus threatened, and watched with a grim sense of satisfaction as the men turned and made their way back to the main part of the castle, arguing amongst themselves about their next course of action.

"They'll never find him," a voice behind him declared confidently.

Cygnus sighed heavily, the only sign that revealed his underlying worry that his plan would fall apart and leave him with nothing to his name. "We can only hope." Cygnus turned back into his study and his gaze met that of the elderly man in the portrait above his fireplace.

"If you have hope, then you are richer than half the men in this kingdom," the old man said.

"I want to be _the_richest man in this kingdom."

"Well, that takes a lot more than hope, son. You need time and patience. You let those slip away and you become sloppy and careless. You will lose everything you have worked hard to obtain. You are not weak. You are not like your sister and her sorry excuse for a husband. You will be the fiercest and most powerful king this kingdom has ever seen. Do not disappoint me for I have sacrificed much to get you this far."

"I will not fail you, Father," Cygnus told the man in the portrait. "I will purge this kingdom of all those not worthy enough to take up a wand. This kingdom will be pure once more."

Pollux nodded in approval. "The _Noble_ and Most Ancient House of Black will rule once more."


	4. Act IV

_**Scene I**_

Sirius stared in confusion at the three boys in front of him, unable to make sense of what just happened. They couldn't have been that much older than him, but their obvious mastery of some magic, enough to save him from certain torture, had Sirius awestruck.

The middle one, who had introduced himself as James, still had a wide, crooked grin on his face as he looked at Sirius expectantly. The longer Sirius stared at him in silence, though, the more his grin started slipping into a frown.

"The least you could do is say thank you," James finally said, running a hand through hair as dark as the night surrounding them, tousled locks sticking out in every direction.

"How did you do that?" he asked instead, unable to mask the curiosity in his tone.

James twirled the long oak wand he held between his fingers as he rocked back on his feet. He stared at Sirius with a thoughtful expression on his face before shrugging. "It's just magic."

"You can't be that much older than me, and I haven't been allowed to learn the basics yet."

"When it comes down to living or dying, some sodding magic law isn't going to stop me from doing what I need to."

"James," hissed the boy to his left, giving him a look that Sirius could not decipher.

Sirius took this opportunity to get a look at the other boys. The moonlight did not grant him enough light to see their full features, especially since the other two boys remained half-hidden in the shadows, but he could tell that they were both shorter than James and had lighter-coloured hair. One looked thin and fragile, while the other was stouter.

"What's the matter, Peter? Afraid he'll run and tell his mummy that we used magic when we weren't of age?"

So the stout one was named Peter, Sirius noted curiously. Peter twitched his nose in agitation, but he refused to be baited by James. Instead, he remained quiet and pursed his lips, glaring at Sirius. Sirius huffed quietly but bit back the snide comment that was on the tip of his tongue.

"What are we going to do with him?" the thin one asked.

James looked between Sirius and the two boys flanking him and frowned. "Typical, Remus, wanting to pick up every stray. We can't feed another mouth."

The boy named Remus shuffled his feet anxiously and Sirius bit back a gasp as he stepped further into the light, revealing a face marred by long, jagged scars. Remus's eyes flickered to the young prince, still sitting uncomfortably on the cold, hard ground.

"We can't just leave him here."

"I don't want to owe you for anything. Just let me go," Sirius interjected, feeling uneasy under James's watchful eye.

"You already owe us for saving your life," James said, his face twisted in an ugly sneer. His gaze was calculating and Sirius squirmed when he suddenly smirked. "I'll take those fine-looking socks you have on your feet as payment for our services. They look nice and warm, and my poor feet are getting a little cold now that the seasons are changing."

James wiggled his toes and Sirius could see his big toe poking out of a hole in the cracked, worn leather of the shoes he wore. Sirius frowned and looked down at his thick socks, green and black threads interwoven in a delicate pattern. They were an old pair Regulus had given him a few Christmases past and while they held some sentimental value, the sudden chill that ripped through him as the wind picked up reminded him that he wore no shoes and was dressed in his sleeping attire.

James, having spent the last few years fending for himself, and then later on Peter and Remus as well, learned how to read other people fairly quickly; a necessity, if he was to survive the forest and all the dangers it contained. He could sense Sirius's hesitation and while he could really use the socks, he proffered another means of payment. "What's so important about you?"

Sirius lifted his gaze from his socks and shook his head in confusion. "I don't understand."

It took James a great deal of restraint to not roll his eyes. "Those men wanted you dead. Why?"

Again, Sirius hesitated and James didn't think he did much without putting a lot of thought into it. "Well, come on then, we don't have all night."

"I don't know!" Sirius exclaimed. While these boys did save his life, revealing he was the prince and next in line for the throne did not seem like the safest move at that moment. He frowned suddenly, wondering then if he even still held the title now that he was banished from his own home upon threat of death.

"Well, you've got some fancy schmancy socks on your feet," James drawled, and Sirius got the distinct impression that the other two boys didn't speak much and just let James do all the talking. He stepped forward and fingered the cloth of Sirius's pajamas before laughing breathlessly. "That feels like real silk. You're filthy rich, aren't you?"

"We could always take him and hold him for ransom," Peter finally spoke up gleefully. "Think of the money he'd be worth." His eyes widened as his thoughts drifted towards piles of gold and finally being able to afford a warm bed to sleep in.

"Please," Sirius pleaded with them, slightly ashamed as his voice cracked. He thought of Scarface and Crooked-Teeth, the cruel, angry words they had spat at him, and the threat that hung over his head. "They'll kill me if I go back. It would be best if I stayed away, at least for a while. Could you… could you at least untie me and I'll be on my way? You can have my socks, just please don't hurt me." He held his wrists out and grimaced when the tight ropes rubbed at his already raw skin.

James knelt down quickly and yanked the socks off Sirius's feet, sighing happily when he felt how thick and warm the material was. "I don't think I remember the spell to cut rope, do you, Peter?" James grinned, once he had rejoined his companions.

"Can't say I do." Peter threw Sirius a nasty smirk before turning his sight towards James and eyeing him enviously when he slipped his shoes off to hastily pull the socks onto his feet.

Sirius cursed quietly under his breath, realizing quickly that he had been deceived. His eyes started to water and he scrunched them closed to stave off the tears, wincing when he felt a sharp pain from the scrape on his cheek.

James tossed a cheeky grin back in his direction once his feet were safely and warmly ensconced in both Sirius's socks and his own shoes. "Thanks for the socks, mate. Best be off now, it is way past our bedtime!"

James turned on his heel with Peter following quickly behind him. Remus paused for a moment, biting his lip with an uncertain expression on his face. He glanced at the swiftly disappearing backs of his friends and muttered, "Damn it all to hell," before he whipped out his own stolen wand. "_Diffindo_."

The ropes tying Sirius's hands and feet together were sliced, falling in coils to the forest floor. Sirius sighed in relief, rubbing the red, raw skin. He looked up as Remus started jogging to catch up to the other two boys. "Thank you," he called out, but Remus had vanished easily, slipping silently into the shadows of the forest like a ghost, and Sirius wasn't sure if he had even heard him.

_**Scene II**_

Word spread quickly through the castle that Prince Sirius had run away. Maids muttered to one another while directing brooms and dusters with flicks of their wands and the portraits jumped from frame to frame, gossiping like old women.

Dumbledore hid himself away in his tower office, a fairly large oval room the king had bestowed upon his favorite advisor for times when the man sought solitude from the castle's constant hum of activity. The walls were painted a deep red with gold trim and wooden shelves lined much of the room, filled with books of various sizes and knick-knacks he had accumulated over his years of travel. It was home. Now, he sat at his desk as his eyes feasted upon the words written on various pieces of parchment and books scattered across the wooden desktop.

The king's death did not sit well with Dumbledore. He knew the monarch struggled to rule his kingdom and household while drowning under the weight of his grief, but it had been nearly a decade since the loss of his wife and his death seemed too sudden to be anything but suspicious. While Moody had determined the king had died of natural causes, Dumbledore knew the man better than anyone else in the castle and as far as he was concerned, Orion had been perfectly healthy right up until his death. With the prince disappearing and Cygnus poised to take the throne until either prince was of age, Dumbledore was as desperate as ever to determine the cause of Orion's death.

Currently, he was researching different spells that may have been used. Moody claimed that there was no sign of spell work present in the king's chambers aside from those used by the Healer. Dumbledore, however, was determined to see if there was a spell in existence that could possibly evade the Detection magic used by the Head Guard. He flipped through pages of both ancient and more recent books as he skimmed the text, frantically seeking answers. So far he had no luck, but Dumbledore's loyalties to Orion and his sons laid deep and the uneasiness he felt around Cygnus pushed him towards more sleepless nights.

_**Scene III**_

Sirius shivered violently as the bitter wind nipped at his fragile, bare skin. The silk he wore may have been expensive but it did little to protect him from the weather; it was nothing more than something pretty to admire. Commoners assumed that the life of the royal family was all glitter and glamour, and Sirius would be lying if he said it wasn't. But he thought it all rather dull –the balls, the fine china, and delicate linens – there was nothing of substance to any of it. He had grand ideas for when he would be king, if he was to ever be king, but now he wasn't sure if he'd make it until morning. He was curled up as tightly as he could between the large exposed roots of a tree, the low-hanging branches offering some shelter. His toes were numb and his feet stung if he moved them at all, little pebbles that littered the ground digging into his soft skin. He cursed James and his own inability to bargain with the boy.

Sirius did not sleep at all that night, and he sighed in relief when the sky began to lighten to a dull gray. He whimpered when he tried to uncurl himself, muscles protesting sharply at the movement. His breath came out in short gasps as he lurched to his feet, tears slipping from beneath his eyelids before he could stop them as he leaned heavily against the tree for support. The pain in his feet was almost unbearable and Sirius sucked in a shuddering breath before attempting to stumble forward. Unable to support his weight, he fell heavily to his knees.

"I'm surprised you made it through the night. Why didn't you ask to come along with us?" a quiet voice suddenly asked, breaking through the early morning silence.

Sirius whipped his head around, groaning at the pain from the kink in his neck, and he almost cried in relief when he saw Remus leaning against a tree, holding a goblet in his hands.

He licked his lips, feeling how dry and cracked they were and desperately wished for some water. "My pride," he croaked, suddenly ashamed that he could have died because he did not wish to come across as a charity case; he was a prince, not a vagabond, after all.

"Here," Remus said, kneeling beside Sirius and pressing the goblet into his hands. "Drink up."

Sirius's hands trembled as he brought the cup to his lips. The water was cold and while Sirius was grateful that Remus decided to come back for him, he half-wished the water was warmer, as he was already chilled to the bone. He lifted his eyes to see Remus watching him carefully, and while he gulped down the water, he got a closer look at the boy. His face was disfigured by four lines of raised, puckered skin, darker than his pale complexion, stretching from his left eye to his right jaw. Remus ducked his head, his light-coloured skin tainted by a slight blush.

"What happened to you?"

"Don't." Remus's voice took on a hard edge to it and Sirius nodded quickly to appease the boy. "Come on, James said I could take you home."

"I don't think I can walk," Sirius shamefully admitted.

Remus sighed but didn't say anything to embarrass him further. Instead, he slipped out of his coat and helped Sirius into it. Then he threw Sirius's arm across his shoulder, grabbing his hand with his own, and wrapped his other arm around Sirius's waist, pulling the younger boy to his feet.

"Does this work?"

They took a few tentative steps and though Sirius tended to drag his feet a bit, he agreed that it would work. The walk back towards the boys' cabin took longer than usual, but the more Sirius walked, the less painful his feet began to feel.

By the time he could see smoke curling and drifting up above the canopy of trees, it was mid-morning and Remus and Sirius were now walking at a brisk pace to reach the warmth of the house. Sirius stood silently in front of the dilapidated cabin, with its wooden planks slightly rotted and one of the front shutters dangling from its hinges. It wasn't a palace, by any means, but after the night he had had, Sirius almost raced for the front door, his body already warmed by the thought of a fire and a blanket to keep the chill away.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," James declared, and Sirius flushed, both from embarrassment and the sudden heat from the fire the boys seemed to have conjured with magic. Peter was wrapped up in a blanket in a corner, refusing to look at Sirius.

The cabin itself was barely furnished. There were piles of blankets in three of the corners, which Sirius assumed were the boys' beds, and a small fireplace. Three thick, long, charred sticks leaned against the wall, and a pot hung from a crudely-made hook in the fireplace. On a shelf rested a few chipped, mismatched bowls and some brand-new goblets that had Sirius wondering if they were stolen. It seemed likely, given the state of the cabin and the clothes the boys wore.

James had his feet up on a rickety old table, leaning back in an equally unstable chair, and he wiggled his toes, clad in Sirius's warm, black socks. "Thanks again for the socks. They kept my feet toasty warm last night. It was a bit cold out, no?" He smiled, then, a predatory smile that made Sirius shiver.

Remus shoved James hard as he passed by on his way to the fire and the wooden chair splintered as James toppled to the floor. "Shove off, James. Give the poor boy a break. He could've lost his toes last night."

James simply laughed and with the flick of his wrist, the splinters came back together in a haphazard manner, making the chair even more unsteady. Then he bowed to Sirius with an over-exaggerated flourish. "Welcome to our humble abode. We are but mere marauders, so we have nothing except our paltry belongings. So long as you can provide for your own food, you can stay."

He was almost frightened to ask. "By what means?"

Remus hid a smirk behind the lip of the cup he was drinking from and James smiled, slightly condescendingly. Sirius briefly wondered if he knew how to look any other way. "Is that your way of asking if we steal our food?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps? Listen to his proper talk. You really are a privileged little snot, aren't you?_Perhaps_ Peter had the right idea with the ransom."

Now that he was warmed by the fire and the adrenaline from last night had worn off, Sirius began contemplating the seriousness of Crooked-Teeth's threats. He could always risk his life to return, call the men's bluff and re-take his place as the future king. But then he remembered the pain of the Cruciatus Curse and the fear that made his heart gallop faster than his favourite racing horse when Crooked-Teeth tried to murder him using the Killing Curse. Was it worth the risk? Kings should be strong and brave and here he was, cowering in some abandoned cabin after being robbed of his socks by some thieving boys not much older than he was. What kind of king did that make him?

"Please don't," he finally said fearfully.

James fixed him with a hard stare. "Are you sure, rich boy? We don't have any of the comforts you are used to. Our only belongings are those we can manage to steal. These are hard times for everyone and villagers don't hand out money to poor, orphaned boys as freely as they used to. You could go home with your fancy clothes and your extravagant life."

"I don't want to die." The sleeve of Remus's coat was long and covered most of his hand; he fingered the cuff anxiously, pleading with his eyes.

James finally sighed in resignation but Peter began to cry out in protest. "What does it matter if he dies? Imagine the money we could get for him. Once they have him back, he's not our responsibility."

"Have a heart, Peter!" Remus exclaimed angrily. "James and I took you in and nursed you back to health when you had nowhere else to go."

Peter frowned and pulled the blanket tighter around his chubby body. "It's been just the three of us for years. We don't need anyone else. This could be our biggest payout yet, but you and your bleeding heart want to save everyone. One more person means less food and clothing for the rest of us."

"You could benefit from a little less food," James shot back, and Sirius almost felt bad when he heard Peter suck in a sharp breath and pull the blanket up over his head.

"James," Remus murmured, shooting the blanket lump that was Peter a sympathetic look. "That was a bit harsh."

"Too fucking bad," James growled, and Sirius flinched at the crude word coming from the mouth of such a young boy. In that moment, he wanted to know what each of their stories were, what drove them to such squalor in order to survive. "He's being a selfish prat, questioning my decision. Who does he think he is? Maybe we could give this kid some of his blankets too."

Remus rolled his eyes but motioned Sirius closer to the fire. "Hey, what's your name?"

He briefly contemplating making up a name, but in the end decided that trying to remember to respond to said false name was more work than it was worth. "Sirius."

"All right, Sirius. I'm Remus, if you didn't know that already. You know James, and that's Peter," he said, waving his hand in the direction of the blanket lump. "You can have some of my blankets until we can scavenge some more scraps."

Remus began yanking a few blankets from his pile and shoved them into Sirius's arms. "You can go sleep in that corner. You look like you haven't slept all night, so take a nap. James and I are going to head out into the forest and see if our traps caught any food. You can have some of our meat until we teach you how to make your own snares and traps. Any vegetables or bread you want to eat with your meat is usually stolen out of nearby villagers' garbage." He smiled, and he wasn't patronizing like James when Sirius wrinkled his nose in disgust. "You'll get used to it. Though you might get sick the first few times."

"Sounds pleasant."

"You're quite welcome to go back to your posh life, rich boy, where you may or may not be murdered," James said, his ill-fitting jacket dwarfing his lanky frame. "Obviously we could care less, except for maybe Remus. He'd probably cry. He has a soft spot for strays, if you haven't noticed."

"I'm compassionate, James," Remus sniffed. "There's a difference."

"Bleeding heart." James repeated Peter's previous words, but these were said with affection and not malice. James ruffled Remus's hair, only to be elbowed in the gut. Sirius smiled in amusement as James was bent over at the waist, gasping for air. "Watch it! Your elbow is pointy."

"You deserved it." Remus was digging through another pile beside his blankets and said a quiet 'Aha!' when he pulled out another jacket. "You keep that one, Sirius, and go to sleep. We'll be back before nightfall."

Sirius shuffled over to his designated corner, but shot an uncomfortable glance towards Peter. James snorted, pulling a hunting knife off the shelf by the fire and slipping it behind his belt. "He's harmless."

"Until he decides he'd rather have me dead," Sirius muttered as the door closed with a loud thud behind the two boys. He knelt on the floor to build his cocoon of warmth, groaning when he remembered falling earlier and scraping up his knees. Casting another quick look at Peter and not seeing any movement, Sirius crawled into the blankets, and after shoving one of them under his head for a pillow, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

_**Scene IV**_

With the rest of the servants retired for the evening, Kreacher and Dumbledore walked along one of the lower level corridors where there was little chance for them to be overheard. The two men had been advisors to the king for many years together and both mourned the loss of not only a leader, but of a great friend.

"How is the young prince faring with all of this turmoil?" Dumbledore questioned as they paused. He glanced quickly at Kreacher out of the corner of his eye and then turned his attention to the wall closest to him, examining the extensive Black family tree; the names sewn into green velvet with silver thread.  
>"As well as any young man, who has just lost both his father and brother can. I was expecting a much larger tantrum this morning and I was afraid he would need another Calming Draught. It is only a matter of time, though. I do not believe Regulus is prepared for all that is expected of him."<p>

"No," Dumbledore agreed. "I fault Cygnus's teaching methods for excluding Regulus from learning about the duties of the heir. He was too confident that Sirius would be the next ruler. We all were. Now we have a prince who knows nothing about ruling a kingdom and a man on the throne who will use him as a puppet."

Dumbledore's eyes focused on Cygnus's name, tracing his lineage back to Phineas Nigellus, who was also a second-born son that took the crown after his own brother, Sirius, failed to live past his eighth year. Phineas was a hard ruler, Dumbledore recalled from old texts and diaries, and he followed generations before him that tried to purify the pureblood lineage, a goal that had yet to be successful.

Kreacher frowned, his eyes darting back and forth to gauge the surrounding portraits' interest in their conversation. None of them seemed particularly enthralled, but one would rather be safe than sorry.

"You truly believe that?" he asked quietly.

Dumbledore sighed heavily, and Kreacher could tell that the last few days weighed heavily on the older man's mind. There were bags under his eyes and a weariness that had not been there days before. "It is a situation that I have thought probable. It is impossible to tell at this moment what Cygnus's plans for this kingdom are, but I have a feeling that we will find out soon enough. We can discuss this matter in greater detail in more private quarters, Matthias."

Kreacher bowed his head slightly. "Of course. How are the funeral plans coming along?" he asked, swiftly changing the subject as the two men continued to stroll along the corridor.

"Most of the arrangements have been made and everything should be completed on schedule for the funeral to be held two days from now. Cygnus's coronation will follow three days after that."

"How wonderful," Kreacher replied dryly.

"Matthias," Dumbledore warned, though he silently agreed with the sentiment.

The two men came to an intersection. "I should leave you to your evening," Kreacher said, motioning towards the hall on the left that would take him to the back stairs and up into the prince's personal corridor. "I would like to check on Regulus before I retire."

"Of course. Please pass along my well wishes to the young prince. I hope Alastor finds Sirius soon."

"As we all do," Kreacher responded sadly before offering Dumbledore a brief wave farewell.

Dumbledore continued straight until he reached another staircase that spiralled up into the towers. He took the stairs quickly, opening the door on his left once he reached the first landing, stepping into his own office. He slipped a vial out of his pocket and took a swig of the vibrant blue liquid he asked Madam Pomfrey to brew for him; he would need it if he was to get any research done tonight, his drowsy body already fighting against the effects of the draught. He collapsed in his chair, waiting a few minutes until he began to feel rejuvenated, and then drew the pile of parchments that were scattered across his desk closer to him, determined still to find an answer.

_**Scene V**_

Sirius was startled awake by a loud bang and raucous laughter. He poked his head out of his blankets and found James and Remus stumbling into the cabin, James with a string of hares tossed over his shoulder and Remus carrying a pile of clothes in his arms. He shivered, noting that the fire had died down since he fell asleep, and, casting a glance at the motionless lump, determined that Peter hadn't been awake at all either to tend to the flames.

"Can't even keep a fire going, rich boy?" James teased, but it was light-hearted and Sirius wondered what had happened out in the forest to make James ease up on him a bit. He shrugged in response but said nothing else when he finally extracted himself from his makeshift bed. He shuffled over to the table where Remus was untying the hares and watched James pull out his wand, uttering a spell that shot an orb of fire into the smouldering tinder.

"What are you going to do with those?"

Remus and James shared a look and then turned to him with identical grins. "You ever skin a hare, Sirius?" Remus asked, reaching behind him to pull out his hunting knife. Sirius noticed James had his out as well and was slicing through the skin along the back of the animal.

Sirius's stomach turned unpleasantly. He was familiar with the meat of the creature, Ms Winky having often cooked it in a hearty stew, but he never saw any part of the animal except what had already been cooked. "I don't know if I can do this."

"If you expect to eat our food, you need to help with the cooking. Remus and I will do it this time, but you need to watch carefully because we'll expect you to help."

Sirius thought he might get sick a couple of times while he watched Remus and James prepare the hares for cooking, but he managed to make it through their demonstration with nothing more than a newfound admiration for Ms Winky and those who helped her in the kitchen. The two boys sliced the meat into small chunks, easy enough to eat in a stew as well as skewered on the sticks Sirius had noticed sitting by the fire. Remus rummaged through a basket he had not seen earlier, and pulled out some herbs, carrots and onions. He shoved them in Sirius's direction and nodded to his knife. "Cut those for the stew."

Sirius stared at him helplessly before he took the knife and tried to remember what Ms Winky's vegetables looked like before attempting to do the same. Remus was sorting through the clothes he had brought in and he glanced over Sirius's shoulder a few times, nodding his approval. James had brought in some old metal pails from outside, filled with water that he then poured into the cooking pot.

"There's a stream straight back behind the cabin," James said in response to Sirius's questioning glance. "You about done with those?"

Sirius looked down and shrugged. "I suppose so."

"Good enough."

With a swish of James's wand, the water began to boil slightly, so Sirius helped him carry the herbs and vegetables over to the pot and dumped them in, followed by half of the meat.

"We'll let it cook overnight," Remus said, pulling on a knitted sweater over the shirt he was wearing and then laying a small pile beside Sirius's bed. "Here are some clothes for you to wear so you aren't left wearing your fancy nightclothes."

"Thanks," Sirius replied, grateful now that they were willing to come back for him.

"Oi, Peter, get your lazy arse up and help us cook the rest of this meat for tonight's dinner," James cried, aiming a well-placed kick to Peter's round bottom.

With an indignant squeak, Peter emerged from his bed with a face red from the warmth of his bed. The three boys skewered the meat on their sticks and took turns cooking over the fire, laughing and joking as though they didn't have a care in the world. Sirius had sat back down on his bed and watched them wistfully, wishing he was home laughing with Regulus. He was envious of their seemingly easy friendship and wondered how he would fit into the dynamic that took years for them to create.

Remus turned to him then, a gentle smile on his face, and beckoned him over to join them. Their inside jokes were lost on him but he tried to slip into the conversation as if he had always belonged there, which only drove the boys to make fun of his posh and out-of-place accent. Sirius ducked his head in embarrassment, but Peter nudged him with his shoulder and tilted his skewer of meat in Sirius's direction as a peace offering. Sirius smiled his thanks and knew then that making fun of him was simply their way of letting him know they were starting to accept him.


End file.
